


of the godly sun

by shannedo



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, F/M, Family, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: “I’d fight a thousand wars for you, Kassandra,” he said. Plainly, as if stating the skies were blue. “Gladly. I’d do it gladly.”





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s- it’s ridiculous, is what it is!” Kassandra felt strangely off balance as she swung her arms around to prove her point. Might have had something to do with the empty wine pitcher on the table. Yes, most likely something to do with that. “I mean, I fought a war for him. I _won_ a war for him. And I’m what? Thrown out like day old goat’s milk?” She tried to take another swing from her goblet but it was dry. As it had been the last time she'd tried to drink from it. “I hammered those fucking Athenians. Did not break a sweat.”

  
Brasidas was looking at her in a way that Kassandra’s hazy mind couldn’t quite place as thoughtful or amused. “I don’t doubt it. You fight like Hades himself is on your tail. And if you had half the appetite for Athenian blood that you have for wine, I almost pity them.”

  
They were on the balcony of some Sparta-commandeered villa, drinking wine and lounging around on a rare afternoon off. The chair she was currently nested in had to be the most comfortable thing she'd felt in months. Slowly and with pure concentration, Brasidas hoisted himself up to go and retrieve more wine. She tried not to laugh at the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on walking in a straight line. It was endearing.

  
“But I’ll be honest, Eagle-Bearer, I do not understand why you are angry at this man. He offered you a place at his side and you turned him down.”

  
She made a noise of protest. “Well-“ she stuttered. “I- You know why I couldn’t say yes. I have a family to reunite and a war to end and a world to save. You know this. How could I say yes? And leave you – all of you – to go on without me?” She was aware of how much she talked and how emotive she got when she felt defensive.

  
Brasidas returned from his quest to find another bottle of wine. He slumped back down in the chair next to Kassandra and pulled out the cork with his teeth. “And what? You expect him to wait on the sandy shores of Mykonos for the Adrestia to appear upon the horizon? Years from now when this war is over, and you may find your way back to him?” Even when he was drunk, he was cutting. And Spartan.

  
“When you say it like that, it almost sounds unreasonable.”

  
He snorted into his wine goblet then gave her a sympathetic look. “Be serious, Kassandra. This is the best way. Better for one to be happy than both to be heartsick.”

  
She took another long drink. He was right, of course. Whenever was he not? “But it was the fact he was ready to go back to Kyra in a heartbeat,” she said. “I have great love for them both and I wish them happiness but…”

  
“But you wanted to be mourned a little longer.”

  
“Yes. A little longer than all of ten seconds.”

  
He considered her. “That is not unreasonable.” A silence stretched between them - it occurred to Kassandra it was the first silence she had heard in months. Months of tracking and sailing and splattering blood across the sand. The exhaustion had set deep into her bones and yet the war was far from won. As for the Cult, she shuddered to think what lay at the end of that road for her. Every night, in her dreams, she still heard her little brother squalling as a priest held him over a cliff edge.

  
She looked to Brasidas and wondered. The man that had been swinging to her aid for months now, as loyal and ferocious and _good_ as he was without effort. Not for the first time, she wondered if that's why he had been in her heart from the moment they met. After all, he was everything Nikolaos had failed to be.

  
Not for the first time, she wondered if she had fallen for Thaletas because he was familiar. The look of him and the way he commanded a battlefield as if he was born to it.

  
"It is for the best though – any _malakas_ who does not realise what it is to lose you is not worthy of having you.”

  
That made her smile, the sudden sadness in her chest washed away like seafoam. He had that effect on her.

  
He pushed himself up off the chair, setting aside his goblet. “Come now, though. Let’s do something else.”

  
She snorted derisively. “I don’t think we’re in a state to do much else right now, my dear friend.”

  
“Such little faith you have.” He took her cup from her hand and set it aside before pulling her up after him. “Let’s do something else. Let’s- let us dance.”

  
This close to him, she could smell the wine on his breath and the sea salt on his skin. “You are a fool, Brasidas,” she laughed. “To what music are we dancing?”

  
“To the music of our hearts.”

  
“Our hearts?”

  
“Yes. Any true Spartan knows the rhythm of the heart and body is essential to the battlefield. I don’t see why dancing should be any different,” To look at Brasidas, you would think this made perfect sense. He pulled Kassandra closer, throwing his arms around her shoulders.

  
“Famous last words.”

  
“Battle is a dance, Kassandra. This is... another dance.”

  
To his credit, he swayed with a decent rhythm – as far as Kassandra’s befuddled brain could discern. She thought the music drifting up from the tavern across the street was helping, but he seemed unaware. When he decided to take lead, however, she _accidentally_ stepped on his toes and forced him onto the back foot.

  
“You know, you could’ve asked if you wanted to lead,” he put on his best look of exasperation.

  
She laughed as she swung them around in slow, lazy circles, finding Brasidas moved with her gently. A natural gift. And years of training to be perfectly in tune with his body. “And when have you ever listened to me or my suggestions?”

  
She knew she shouldn’t have asked.

  
“Oh, do not get me _started, misthios_. The _shit_ you have dragged me into!” He did get started, though, recounting every time Kassandra's leadership had gotten them into a hairy situation. The most noteworthy being the time they were tracking on a farmer’s land and a particularly territorial goat had rammed into Brasidas’s legs. He sliced its neck and claimed it for supper. It was just a shame that the farmer did not find this quite so pleasing given that was his _favourite_ goat.

  
“We are both here to tell the tale, though!”

  
“Kassandra, that does not negate the fact that that goatfucker would have had my head on a spike so my rotting eyes could have watched him making love to his livestock for all eternity!”

  
She couldn’t help the full belly laugh that was racking her body. “Gods, I should have warned that village about buying that farmer’s wares.”

  
Brasidas’s laugh is booming. “Perhaps it makes better cheese if you give the goats a shake first!”

  
They were laughing so hard at this point that Kassandra didn’t notice the chair behind her and tripped. They both went tumbling to the soft carpet thrown over the ground and just lay there for a moment, laughing and wiping tears from their eyes. The wine made Kassandra feel like she is still aboard the Adrestia, the deck rocking below her. Brasidas lay on his back with his arms pillowed under his head, still chuckling away to himself. Kassandra gazed up at the stars and raked her fingers through the soft carpet beneath her.

  
She found the familiar shape of Aquila in the pinpoints of shining light and, as she always did, said a silent prayer to Zeus for giving her Ikaros. The mighty eagle had saved her life more times than she cared to count. He guided her across the entire Greek world and kept her safe.

  
She lifted her head to look for the eagle, then, to make sure he was safe and sound – he always was. What she found was Brasidas looking back at her. His eyes were soft. His eyes were always soft. The colour of roasted almonds, so different from the rest of him that looked as if it were wrought from steel.

  
His cheeks flooded with colour as he was caught staring, but the Spartan was bold – and encouraged by the wine. “I’d fight a thousand wars for you, Kassandra,” he said. Plainly, as if stating the skies were blue. “Gladly. I’d do it gladly.” He rested his head again on the carpet, looking up to the inky black. No expectation of reciprocation or gratitude. Just a statement of a fact he knew to be true.

  
His words made her chest warm and she knew he meant it. Scarier, she knew she’d do the same for him, he’d only have to ask. The night was warm and peaceful, and she knew she would remember it for many, many moons. Slowly, she reached across the shaggy carpet, seeking his hand. He moved to take it and his hand was large, his fingers calloused, his grip strong and steady and warm.

  
“You wouldn’t be alone on the battlefield, you know? From now until we cross the Styx, I would be honoured to be by your side.” Gods as her witnesses.

  
For now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah that was fun!! This was mainly written in the wee hours of the morning (RIP my morning class) so apologies for any sloppiness & grammar issues, they will be fixed later!
> 
> I'd be happy to continue this for another chapter or two, if people wanted that? I've got a couple of ideas of where this could go!
> 
> Let me know. All kudos and feedback much appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

The summer sun was warm on the bare skin of her thighs and arms. She lay on the sandy bank of a lagoon, kicking her feet in the water. Her back ached and creaked with exhaustion and her mind took a much-needed rest. Ikaros always had her back, not that she thought she needed his eyes right now. You couldn’t tell a war was raging throughout the Peloponnesus and across the Aegean Sea. Not from this sunny bank in Lakonia.

The Adrestia had docked this morning after a long but peaceful journey at sea. She often thought Poseidon must be the only god without an agenda against her. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been looking over her shoulder at every turn. For month after month, her sleep had been a fitful, light slumber, ready to leap onto Phobos’ back and run at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t a good way to live.

She had an awful lot of business in Lakonia to tend to, she knew. But after seeing her mother again and feeling the tension lift knowing she was safe, Kassandra felt her limbs go heavy. Myrrine had just smiled (the same smile Kassandra had dreamt of for years) and said Sparta could wait. _Get some rest, lamb. The gods know you have earned it._

Even if she hadn’t felt as if she’d just taken on Herakles in the Arena, she doubted she’d be rushing back into Spartan life anyway. This place felt… strange. It still felt like home, in a way Kephallonia never did, but those memories were tainted bittersweet. How she could love and serve and make home in a place that ripped her family apart, she didn’t know.

Alexios. Sometimes she sat vigil beside his wicker basket, her grandfather’s broken spear clutched in her hands. When she reached out for him, he would gurgle and grip onto her little finger with all the might his tiny fist could manage. Nikolaos had told her it was her duty to protect her little brother.

She had only tried to protect him.

Kassandra sat up abruptly, trying to shake her head free of the dark thoughts that circled there. Even when she tried to rest – on a sunny bank in the place she was born – she had to keep running from the past.

Her armour was strewn across the bank, drying in the sun. She had tried to get the worst of the blood and the dirt off in the lagoon. She pushed herself to her feet and took a moment to steady herself, eyes set on the brilliant blue of the water. She pulled her tunic up and over her head and let it drop beside her on the bank before finding a good spot on the rocks to dive from. Then, she took a mighty leap.

The rush of the cool salt water against her bare skin was divine, a new breath of life coursing through her limbs. She did her best to wash away a layer of dirt and grime with her hands. She unwound her braid, fanning her hair out across the surface of the water. The soothing cool on her scalp fizzled throughout her shoulders and neck. She began to work her fingers through her hair, teasing out the worst of the knots. The salt water was stinging in the wrapped wound on her arm and the large scratches on her thighs, but she knew it was a healing burn. _If you have no salve, cleaning a wound with salt water is as good an alternative as you can get,_ Hippokrates had explained to her. _The same way the salt stops your food from rotting, it will stop your wounds from festering._ Kassandra got her fair share of wounds, so the advice was much appreciated.

Having cleaned herself as well as she could at the given moment, Kassandra lay back in the cool water. The muffled quiet of the water was nearly eerie, but she knew this was a side effect of being on her guard for too long.

Suddenly, the faintest sound of Ikaros’ piercing call broke through to her and Kassandra rushed upright. She blinked stinging salt water out of her eyes and looked for her armour and her axe. Both far away on the bank. She cursed herself for being so stupid and made to dart for them.

“I come in peace.” The voice was a deep rumble of a sound.

By this point, Kassandra was on the bank, with a dagger in hand. She froze. “Who are you?” she called into the tall grass.

“A friend,” the figure that emerged from the reeds, clad in heavy Spartan armour, was indeed a friend.

“Brasidas!”

“Kassandra,” Brasidas’ cheeks rushed with red when he realised her state of undress. He reached down for her tunic and threw it to her, an impressive feat given he was practically refusing to look at her. “My deepest apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

She gave a single laugh and caught the tunic he threw her way but made no attempt to cover herself. “Come now, Brasidas. Shyness? Surely you see plenty of nakedness in that zoo you call barracks?”

“Well yes, but not…”

“Women?” She saved him further discomfort and pulled the tunic over her head. She also tried not to take too much delight in the bright flush creeping up his neck from under his breastplate. “I do not believe for a second that Brasidas of Sparta has not seen his fair share of naked women.”

The redness in his cheeks was not budging and he was still struggling to meet her eyes. “When you do not… know them, I guess the naked form is not such an… intimate thing.” The pleading look on his face said _please, leave this be._

She took pity on him and sat down on the bank, patting the spot beside her. “Come, I’ll stop torturing you now,” the look of relief on his face was palpable. And adorable. “It is so good to see you! What have you been doing?”

She hadn’t seen Brasidas since Korinth, when they had drunk too much and said too much. She had woken up as the sun came over the horizon once again and she had found herself nestled into the Spartan’s side. At some point in the night, they had come together, one pair of hands clasped between them. His other arm – strong, comforting – had been thrown around her waist. She had buried her face in his neck, against the coarse grain of his beard and the scent of the forest and the ocean air.

She’d been telling herself for months now it wasn’t cowardice to leave without another word. She still didn’t think she believed it.

“Trying to win this damned war, what else?” His voice was gruff, and he was tired, that much was clear. “When I saw Myrrine in town, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I told her I had met you and she pointed me in your direction. I hope I’m not intruding on your rest.”

“Not at all, Brasidas.” _You give me peace enough._ “Any time spent in your company is time well spent.”

He smiled and the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkled. “I’m glad you think so. What have you been doing?”

She gave him a wry smile “Relaxing on Crete, partying on Mykonos, being hand fed grapes in Athens. You know, the usual.”

He laughed. “Is that the life of a _misthios?_ Clearly, I am getting a bad deal from the Army,” he said, brushing at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. She would tell him to at least take off his breastplate, maybe his greaves, but sometimes she suspected he slept in that armour. His short-cropped hair and the braid at the nape of his neck were damp with sweat, probably from trekking across the hills to get here. She tried not to stare.

“Clearly,” she said. She pulled her wet hair to one side of her hair and wrung out the worst of the water. “Do they even let you own a house?” She parted her hair and started to wind it together into a braid again.

“Yes, once you are thirty – but I haven’t yet. I don’t have a wife, children, it seems like a waste." He was cut off when Kassandra winced, the position of her arms making the bandaged wound on her upper arm ache painfully. “What happened to your arm?”

Kassandra let down her arms, still hissing through her teeth. “A pirate ship rammed into the Adrestia, sent a big shard of wood straight into me,” she explained. “Better my arm than my neck.”

“Let me, don’t be silly.” He moved closer to her and Kassandra felt sparks scatter down her neck when Brasidas took her hair in his hands and split it apart to weave it into a braid.

Her heart felt ready to jump out of her chest as his fingers – she remembered them against her own, warm and calloused – brushed against her skin. Not for the first time, she was amazed by the gentleness such a large man was capable of. She gave herself a shake. “Don’t change the subject. Why have you not married? Surely every woman in Sparta is battering down your door?”

From this angle, she couldn’t see his face, but she felt the way the breath from his soft laughter ghosted across her neck. “There was never anyone I could see myself taking time out of my work for. Why go home from a war to a wife you do not really love when there is so much to be done, you know?”

“I can’t say I do, but I am good at empathy.”

He laughed again. She shivered. “Of course,” he said. “I guess you could say I am married to my work.”

Right.

“Do you not want children, then? A little spear-and-shield wielding you?”

She didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling, it was all in his voice. “A little Brasidas Jr? I would love it.”

“Or a little Brasida. Who would ensure all the soldiers’ heads stay attached if they were all men? You are a group that is historically bad at keeping your heads attached in battle.”

“You have a point there. I would love a daughter.” He wound the leather cord around her braid and said, “There. At least I would know how to braid Brasida’s hair.”

She smiled, “Not bad, thank you.” Feeling the tension slowly unwinding in her body, she lay back on the bank and closed her eyes, basking in the sun.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I did not just come to talk,” he said. She opened one eye to peek at him. He was looking at her with a regretful expression. “I mean, I did come to talk and catch up, but I was also sent by the Kings. They’ve been informed of your arrival and they wish you to speak with you.” He sighed. “About your citizenship and your… loyalty.”

She repressed a sigh. “When?”

“Tonight. When the sun goes down.”

She shuffled herself on the grass to get comfy, better cushioning her back and her head. And if her thigh was brushing against his, that was incidental. “Well, wake me up when the sun goes down.”

He answered with a chuckle. “I can do that, Eagle Bearer.”

 

* * *

 

She awoke to the smell of cooking and opened her eyes, slowly sitting upright as her mind struggled to come back to life. The scent was drifting up from a small campfire, set in the sand by the lagoon. The flames licked at skewered fish, turning the skin golden brown and Kassandra’s mouth watered.

“I thought you would be hungry,” Brasidas said, crouched beside the fire in the dying light of the evening. “I know I am.”

Her stomach growled, in strong agreement with the general. “Brasidas, you didn’t _have_ to stay here. Gods, do you not have things to do? You should have woken me-“

The flames of the fire lit his features with a softness she hadn’t seen before. Every time she thought she knew him, understood him, there was another facet waiting to be discovered. “It was the first time I had ever seen you at peace, Kassandra. I did not wish to interrupt your sleep. Besides, I entertained myself,” he gestured to the fresh fish over the fire. “It was relaxing.”

She couldn’t deny that a day spent basking in the glow of the sun had lessened the aches in her body considerably. “It never occurred to me that you must not get much peace either.” She rolled her shoulders and felt them pop with satisfaction.

“No,” he answered. “I enjoy it where I can. I get my orders tomorrow – I’m guessing it will be Arkadia – so I thought I would savour today.”

“By watching over me while I slept? There are better ways-“

He gave a small smile. “By being in your company.” Then, he seemed to remember himself. “It is good for the soul to spend time with friends.”

Friends, right. She had no idea which part of that she ought to reply to. Instead, she shuffled down towards the fire. “Smells good. Thank you.”

They ate in relative silence, both enjoying their food, both a little unsure of what to say. Then, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Kassandra stood and began piling back on her armour. She reattached her sword belt and replaced Leonidas’ spear in its holster.

“That belonged to your grandfather, did it not?” He had a soft look of wonderment in his eyes.

“It did,” she said as she set off on the path back to Sparta.

Brasidas fell into step beside her. He walked like a solider, with his head up and shoulders back. Nearly thirty years in the army would do that to you, she thought. “The Gods have blessed me in letting me know the descendants of such a hero.”

She huffed. “You know, some people would say I am something of a hero also.”

He had the good grace to look abashed at that. “I didn’t think it needed to be said that I consider you a hero, Kassandra.”

The fizzle of annoyance she’d felt in her chest all day at the way he was speaking to her was stoked, at this point. The way he was qualifying everything with the word _friends,_ how he was holding her at arm’s length. Now, making her Leonidas’s granddaughter. He seemed determined to speak about anything except _them._ “It’s nice to hear, sometimes,” she said shortly. “After you’ve been called _Aphrodite_ this and _Artemis_ that a couple dozen times. When people only ever recognise your worth in relation to Leonidas or Nikolaos or a fucking _bird,_ sometimes it’s nice to be appreciated for who _you_ are and what _you_ have done.”

She knew the flare of anger was undeserved, – the poor man hadn’t said anything _wrong_ – she was just tired. Tired of him being so near but just out of reach. Tired of how he was everything she could ever want but so dedicated to a place that had thrown her off a fucking mountain, he’d never have any room for her. He’d said it himself. If anyone was Brasidas’s lover, it was Sparta.

He was silent. Dumbfounded. She didn’t blame him. They had passed through the city gates now, making their way down the magnificent boardwalks that had fallen quiet as the light died. It didn’t help the atmosphere.

“Kassandra-“

“No, I’m sorry. That was unnecessary,” she said.

He reached out a hand towards her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

“Please, just forget I said anything.”

She didn’t know what his eyes said. They were soft and warm, as they always were. But they also seemed sad and unsure.

She resolved not to think about it. Like so many other things.

 

* * *

 

“Brasidas, you vouch for this woman?”

The audience hadn’t gone great so far. Kassandra was weary from the road and wound up over the man standing solemnly by her side. To top it off, everything that came out either of the Kings’ mouths seemed perfectly engineered to get under her skin.

_Murderer._

_Dishonour._

_Your poor father._

A lifetime of hearing this and even she might start to believe that Nikolaos was the true victim in all of this. She tensed to hear what Brasidas would say. He clearly knew the story, but he’d never seen her childhood dragged out into the open like this before. She half expected him to tell Pausanias and Archidamos that they were right, and he was sorry and then drag her from the palace.

Then he spoke, and she felt ashamed for even thinking of that.

“Kassandra is the bravest person I have ever known,” he said. He looked at her and those eyes were like liquid gold. “Was it not for her, Athens would have forced us out of Megaris and Korinth and all the way home. As far as I can see, we owe the fact we still have a fighting chance in this war to her.

“There is not a person in Sparta with a finer mind or a more indomitable spirit. If Sparta is about bravery and honour and the will to fight until the bitter end, I must say I’ve never met a person more Spartan.”

Archidamos looked more than a little shocked by his general’s words. Kassandra couldn’t say she blamed him. She could only stare at Brasidas, in a daze. His jaw was set with determination, his brow furrowed, and Kassandra’s stomach was doing somersaults.

Pausanias gave a weary sigh. “Thank you for your… appeal, Brasidas. We will continue to consider this matter carefully, but it has been a long day and I would rather it didn’t end poorly.” He looked to Kassandra and it was only then she realised her hands were balled into fists at her sides. She tried to relax. “Until we have reached a decision, I suggest you stay out of trouble. Since Brasidas has so passionately pleaded your case here, we shall make him personally responsible for any wrongdoing on your part. If you have any appreciation of what he has done here for you tonight, behave.”

He was snide and dismissive, but Kassandra refused to rise to it. She nodded her head in agreement. As odious as he was, it was the truth.

“Now get out,” Archidamos boomed.

Kassandra didn’t need to be told twice and followed Brasidas from the palace, hot on his heels.

What was all that about? The heat in his voice, the fire in his eyes. She thought of Brasidas so often as a soldier, sometimes she forgot he was a leader too. To stand up to his Kings like that… he was a man of his own agency, his own morals and beliefs. Not brainwashed, not a zealot.

He was slowly driving her mad.

Brasidas paced before her, out of the doors of the palace and down the boardwalk. She struggled to keep up, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the slabs of the empty street. She reached out and grabbed his arm.

He shook her off, whipping around to face her. “Kassandra-“

“Thank you,” she blurted over him. “Thank you for that. For defending me. I didn’t deserve it.”

His stony face softened. “Didn’t deserve it?”

“Brasidas, I chewed you up and spat you out not an hour ago for daring to mention my grandfather,” her hand found the back of her neck, abashed. “Which I am sorry for, by the way.”

“You were right, though,” he said, gazing off at some faraway spot on the horizon. “You are more than the descendant of those men. And I always knew that. I knew that the day we met. You are not Artemis or Aphrodite, you are Kassandra… of Sparta. But to dwell on it… to dwell on you, Kassandra? At a point, it becomes masochism.”

He was walking away from her again and again she had more questions than answers. “Brasidas! Stop it, talk to me,” she said. She bolted after him and stopped dead in front of him. “What are you talking about? What in the world do you mean, masochism?” He wasn’t looking at her. She lifted his chin with her hand, her fingers lingering for a moment.

“If you do not know, Kassandra, it is better for us both if it stays that way.”

She could’ve teared her own hair out in frustration. “Gods, man. Talk to me! We are a team, are we not? We make a great team!” her tone was growing frantic. “If I am distracting you from your duties, I apologise. I know what they mean to you.”

“My duties? What?”

“Come on, Brasidas. You are practically married to this place and Sparta would fall without you. It is just one of the many things so incredible about you. If my feelings have in any way made your duties harder, I apologise.”

Brasidas looked as confused and torn as she felt. “Kassandra, what in the world are you talking about? You practically do my work for me and you have been so important to the war effort – I had to give myself distance from you because I couldn’t risk losing you. And I could not lose our friendship.”

She would ask Zeus to strike this man with lightning if he called them _friends_ one more time. “How could you lose me? How could I ever walk away from you?”

“If you knew how I felt-“

“Please! Fucking enlighten me!”

He let out the most ragged sigh, his shoulders slumped. He looked tired. It was the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him. He always looked like a hero. Now he looked like a man. “When I woke up in that villa and you had already left, I knew I had said too much. I meant every word of it, but I knew if I scared you away, Sparta would suffer. And I would never be able to forgive myself for the loss of a woman like you. If all you wished to offer me is a place at your side on the battlefield, Kassandra, that day I resolved to take it and be glad you could afford me so much.”

Kassandra’s shoulders sagged. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “Brasidas, I ran that morning because I had bared you my soul and I knew you could never feel the same.” She waved an arm at him, “I mean, fucking look at you and then look at me. You are honourable and brave and righteous, and I could never compare. I have killed people and bought myself new bracers with the earnings, Brasidas. I’m not a good person and I know it. I couldn’t face the look of disgust and then sympathy. I had to run.”

“With all due respect, that is the biggest load of shit I have ever heard.”

She looked up to see him walking towards her, his eyes burning. He stopped just short of her and bent his head to hold her gaze. “I have done many things I am not proud of, Kassandra. I am a soldier. You are a _misthios._ It comes with the territory,” his hand was gentle under her chin. “I care about who you are now, not what we have done in the past. And the woman I know now is the woman who has my heart.”

“I would fight a thousand wars for you,” she said. Her throat felt tight, a lump the size of a walnut lodged there. “If it kept you safe.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, large hands cradling her face. His lips were soft, softer than she expected, and she could feel her heart threatening to beat out her chest. Her hands found his wrists and she clung on. His lips were so sweet an eternity of kisses would not be long enough. His forehead came to rest against hers. “It always made me a bad soldier, how my head could never seem to govern my heart.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “It always made me a bad _misthios_ , that I even had a heart at all.” She lifted one of his hands from cupping her face and laid it on her breastbone, so she could feel the thudding rhythm. “It’s yours.”

She would never tire of that smile. “I love you, Kassandra.”

“And I love you.”

 

* * *

 

She found Myrrine in the agora the next day, as the sun peaked in the sky. Her mother was browsing fruits and vegetables. She pretended not to notice her, although the conspiratorial smirk on her face was a dead giveaway. “Did the good general find you, then?”

Kassandra plucked a shining red apple from the stall and passed the merchant a drachma. She took a hearty bite from it, considering her mother for a moment. “Please refrain from handing out my location to any person off the street who claims to know me, _mater.”_

She made to stride away, but Myrrine was still smirking at her. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She handed some drachmae over to the merchant and put away her produce. Taking this as the end of the conversation – and the meddling – Kassandra moved past her, towards the dock. “We all deserve things that make us happy, Kassandra,” Myrrine said and she turned to look at her. “He is good for you.”

Kassandra smiled softly. “And I am good for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit longer than I planned on it being! Hence why it took longer haha but I already know what the last chapter will be so hopefully that won't take as long. Also, I think I've caught most of them but there might be some anglicised spellings of places and names slipping through the cracks here and there rather than the Greek ones. It's the pain of writing about real places and people, I guess!
> 
> As always, your feedback is much appreciated! Sorry I haven't gotten round to replying to comments so far, will do as soon as I can ;)
> 
> My tumblr is @astolove


	3. Chapter 3

Through the sea mist, Kassandra could see Lakonia now. The mountains stretching towards the sky, the green valley below, blessed by Demeter. She leaned forwards onto her toes, suppressing a nervous bounce. In years gone by, she would’ve done this on the eve of battle. But, thanks to a bloody war, the will of the Gods and no small amount of effort on her part, Kassandra had not seen war in near a decade.

Barnabas’ laugh turned her head – he’d been watching her. “Glad to be home?” he asked.

She gave a wry smile. “Ah, you know how it is. Adventure is good for the mind, but home is good for the soul.”

Barnabas scoffed at her again. “You speak too much with Sokrates,” he said. “Why do I even ferry you to Athens?”

“Because I am your captain?” Kassandra intoned, raising an eyebrow at him. But there was no threat in it.

As if to prove it, Barnabas threw his hands up in the air, “Apologies, oh mighty captain! Please find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Kassandra laughed as the Adrestia gently rocked in the waves, the crew already hurrying around the mast to lower the sail as they drew into the bay. It had been months, but Poseidon had smiled kindly on her on the journey home. The Adrestia had cut through wave after wave, clean and swift, carrying her back home in astonishing time. Not that any of it would’ve been possible without Barnabas. She smiled at her old friend, a man more fatherly than anyone else in her life. “You are of course graciously forgiven.”

Barnabas seemed satisfied with this. “I hope it will be a long time before we return to the ocean?” he asked, giving her a meaningful look. He knew how much she missed home when she was away.

“We can only hope,” she said with a weary sigh. “We shall see what Archidamos makes of the papers from Athens. I should not complain, though. Playing Hermes for Athens and Sparta is a small price to pay to keep our sons from sailing off to another war.”

“You, of all people, have paid enough, Kassandra.”

It was a simple statement, one she didn’t think he expected a response to. Maybe he had a point. Maybe back in what felt like another lifetime, she had made her fair share of sacrifice.

 

* * *

 

_Back in what felt like another lifetime_

 

* * *

 

When her feet hit the slatted floor of the jetty, she half expected to fall through the cracks in the wood. She felt waifish and dizzy from months of exertion, in the furthest flung parts of the Greek world. The Cult’s blood still felt wet on her cheeks, in her eyes, in her mouth. The mountains towered above her, the ocean a yawning gulf ready to swallow her whole. She felt aching in her bones.

In a graceless stumble, she made her way down the docks. They were growing quiet as the sun dipped behind the mountains and darkness spread like a cloak. She wondered shamelessly if she might be able to tell someone she was the _Kassandra of Sparta, the Eagle Bearer_ and wrangle a horse for the ride home.

Her reverie was interrupted by a deep and familiar booming voice.

_“Kassandra!”_

A fisherman hauling his catch onto the deck jumped so high he nearly fell clean off the dock. Kassandra suppressed a sigh. She still hadn’t worked out the kindest possible way to tell her brother that his way of talking was… threatening, to say the least.

Alexios was striding up the dock towards her, in that way of his that made him look like Ares reborn. Despite herself, she smiled. Her little brother looked well, Myrrine’s cooking making him look a little softer around the face. A family that loved him making him look a little softer around the eyes. He was wearing the soft training armour of the _agoge._ Alexios had needed no training in the art of war – the Cult had seen to that, she thought grimly. But his ability to trust his shield brothers and work towards a common goal had kept him from joining the army straight away. As infuriated as Alexios had been, it had been a blessing in disguise – the thought of packing him off to war again was unbearable. Myrrine’s letters had told her he was improving though. That made her heart a little lighter.

“My _malakes_ little brother,” she laughed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close. She’d so long thought him dead that to feel his heart beating against hers was still a marvel.

“Ended the war single handed, have you?” he asked. He was getting better at joking, too.

Kassandra would gladly end a war single handed if it kept her little brother from ever seeing a battlefield again. But she didn’t tell him that. “Don’t worry, I left a couple Athenians for both my little brothers – I am nothing if not fair,” she pulled back, so she could smooth down his bird’s nest of a head. He predictably swerved out of reach and she laughed at him.

“Save it for your _lover,”_ he grumbled, jerking his head in the direction of the agora and Kassandra’s heart swooped.

There, standing only metres away, as silent as the night and smiling fondly, was a welcome face.

 _“Brasidas,”_ she breathed.

“Hello, my love,” he said, giving a soft grunt as Kassandra all but crashed into him. Her arms were around him in an instant, her nose buried in the familiar earthy scent of his skin. Her eyes squeezed tight shut. Brasidas’ arms wound tight around her and she swore she had never felt so safe. “It is good to see you.”

She pulled back, looking over him, running her hands over his shoulders. The distinct bulge of a harness lay under his soft leather training armour. “It is a blessing to see you,” she said, her hands lingering on his upper arms.

His smile was brighter than the burning sun.

“Well, I am glad you missed me also,” Alexios said, petulant.

She shot him a glare just to see there was a half smirk on his face. “Either shut up yourself or I will make you.”

Her brother’s grin was lilting. “We both know who would win that fight.”

At her side, Brasidas was tittering. “And you wonder why I say prayers for your mother,” he muttered under his breath. He had a point.

Rolling her eyes, Kassandra looped an arm around her lover’s shoulders and gestured for her brother. She pulled him into her other side and set off down the dock. The path home did not seem so long now. Not with the two most important men in her life at her sides.

As they walked, she was careful not to knock into Brasidas’s weak shoulder, although he would never admit to pain. Spartan until the bitter end. They had come close to that bitter end not so many months ago. She took the fact that both her brother and her lover had come to the docks together to greet her as a good sign.

When Alexios had returned to Lakonia, Brasidas had, unsurprisingly, stayed far away. Alexios had sniffed at the Spartan to begin with. He had muttered vile things about the Twice-Survived General being a stain on his reputation. Kassandra felt a tinge of shame at the memory of leaping over the dinner table and pressing the broken spear to her baby brother’s windpipe. He had learned after that, learned who that General was to his sister, and had enough honour to be ashamed. As did Kassandra. She could still hear their mother begging her.

Alexios and Brasidas were not yet on speaking terms, but they could at least be in the same place. The spear that had destroyed Brasidas’s shoulder had missed everything keeping him alive by a hair’s width. She hadn’t known that to begin with though. She had only seen him lying face down in a pool of his own blood, unmoving. She knew what it felt like to lose him, if only for a time.

That’s what she told herself when the healers informed her Brasidas would never be able to fight for Sparta again and she felt a secret surge of relief. It was deeply selfish, she knew, but she couldn’t face him coming back to her on his shield. Not again. Not when last time it had felt like a white-hot sword twisting in her belly. She had swung at her brother with full intent of taking his life; she held Kleon under the water until he stopped struggling.

When she watched Spartans fall in the mud now, she never worried for a second that it might be him. When her shame and guilt rose inside of her, she tried to tell herself perhaps her mother had been right when they’d spoken on the dock, a long time ago. Maybe they all deserved something good. And some days, Brasidas felt like the only thing keeping her tethered to this damned world.

“You start thinking any louder and one day I might be able to overhear,” came Brasidas’ voice. She smiled and knocked a hip against his, but the look he was giving her was meaningful. “Is everything alright?”

She softened, a tugging urge in her chest to wrap him up in her arms and never let go. “I’m just glad to see you both… together,” the silence was rocky, but she felt in time it could be ground down into sand. “You know me, Brasidas. I think too much.”

Her brother laughed on her other side. “A trait you definitely inherited from our mother.”

Her comparatively smaller stature did not stop her from smacking her brother upside of the head. “And you inherited your pig-headedness from our father.”

They passed the outer limits of the city and the streets were still busy with Spartans finishing up their business for the day. The heroes of days gone by stood guardian on either side of the walk, towering over their contemporaries.

“Give me some credit, Kassandra,” her brother way saying. “Not even the fucking cult could make me half the dolt he is.”

She laughed again. “And yet we wonder why Stentor is the favourite child.”

To her surprise, even Brasidas uttered a chuckle at this. “Now I would not challenge your father on the best day, but how anyone could prize a spoilt brat like Stentor over the hero of Sparta, I do not understand.”

Kassandra stared at him, jaw slack in wonder. Despite any personal feelings, Brasidas had only ever shown the utmost respect for the man who raised her for a time. She guessed it was the army drilling in a respect for rank and experience, regardless of how much you might dislike the office holder. Not that she’d ever thought it necessary. Brasidas was not even that many years her father’s junior, was of the same rank, held greater acclaim and accolades. All whilst not having tossed any children off Taygetos. But the Brasidas who presented as the honourable, respected Spartan general was not the Brasidas she knew behind closed doors. That Brasidas had thoughts and opinions and a heart he sometimes battled to govern.

Speaking over Kassandra’s wide-eyed shock, Alexios said, “It is absurd! I agree. And Kassandra does not owe her victories nor her status to nepotism, for the love of the Gods.”

Brasidas snorted and nodded his head to that. Kassandra took it for the small victory it was.

“You speak as though we are not all self-made, brother,” Kassandra said. “We all forged our own steel!” Regardless of circumstance (and what varied circumstance it was) it was true. “Surely that is worthy of celebration?”

They had arrived at the courtyard before the Agiad family home now and the front door was propped open. The mouth-watering scent of Myrrine’s cooking was drifting to Kassandra’s nose. Alexios stopped for a moment and Kassandra stopped beside him. Her chest fell as she feared she might have said something to trigger his shame. But, to her surprise and relief, he was smiling. “You are right, it is,” he said and pulled her into another smothering hug. “It is worthy of celebration that we are all here together, today.”

As they stepped back from their embrace, Brasidas shifted at her side. One hand came up to rest on the small of her back, soft and reassuring as he reached out with the other hand.

Kassandra felt her stomach flip as Brasidas reached out his arm to Alexios, a near indecipherable look in his eyes. But Alexios clearly saw nothing to cause concern in the look as he reached out and grasped Brasidas by his forearm.

The two men, as many worlds apart as the summit of Olympus and the depths of Hades, shook firmly.

“To Kassandra,” Alexios said.

“To this family,” Brasidas said.

Kassandra had no time to process the elated butterflies beating their wings against her stomach, nor the utter disbelief and joy in her mind. Myrrine was calling to them through the open shutters. “Come and eat, I have not been slaving all day to see this food go cold!” Then, nearly an afterthought. “Come and give your mother a hug, my lamb.”

Alexios and Brasidas, still holding onto each other’s forearms, looked to her. “We had better not keep her waiting, _lamb,”_ Alexios said snidely. Brasidas looked like he was stopping himself from smirking.

Kassandra could only muster the weakest of glares, still in utter disbelief. She resolved to turn on her heel and, with a toss of her hair, went on without her brother or her lover, not dignifying the taunt with a response. Besides, she needed to hug her mother.

The supper was pleasant, the food as beautiful as ever. Nothing could have put a dent on the joy in Kassandra’s chest at that moment. The wine made her body unwind and her laugh ring out freely as her family conversed and joked long after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Kassandra kept catching Myrrine gazing at her fondly and, despite all their talk, Nikolaos seemed very glad to see her. Stentor seemed more perplexed by the newfound camaraderie between Brasidas and Alexios. He almost looking a little deflated. Kassandra had to repress a giggle at that. Stentor had always thought himself to be preferential to Alexios in Brasidas’ eyes. It had been a fair assumption after all. Only one of her little brothers had put a spear through the man. But as much as she loved Stentor, she couldn’t help but find his dissatisfaction amusing.

Kassandra felt ready to burst after eating as much of Myrrine’s cooking as she could get her hands on. She surreptitiously loosened her belt under the table and leaned back in her chair, letting out a deep, contented sigh. The men were currently disputing about some change in procedure being put into place at the _agoge._ Myrrine kept glancing at her with thinly veiled looks of impatience at the squabbling of roosters.

“In some ways I am glad I never made it to the _agoge,_ ” Kassandra said over them. “I never was any good at taking orders.” Brasidas’ booming laugh rung through the room and Kassandra was indignant on her own behalf. “Don’t laugh at that!”

“Apologies, my love,” Brasidas said, putting a placating hand on her folded arms. “But I can credit that – I would have been driven mad if I had ever been your commanding officer.”

Nikolaos smiled in that distant way of his. “As a child, she was wilful as a thunderstorm… and twice as tempestuous,” he said. “Pray your daughters take after you, my boy.” She flushed violently. To Brasidas’s credit, he too looked agape.

_“Pater-“_

“Oh, do not even bother to try and defend yourself, Kassandra,” Stentor was the next to jump in on the seeming dogpile on top of her. Kassandra sent pleading looks to her brother and her mother, both of whom merely shrugged at her as if to say, _they have a point, lamb._ Stentor continued. “I have actually been your commanding officer – in Boetia – and sometimes I still wake in a cold sweat.”

“And I would not have been sent if you could even campaign your way out of a war tent!” Kassandra said, gesturing to Stentor with a slosh of her wine filled goblet.

The table broke down into further laughter and bickering at that, Stentor having the good grace to smile despite himself. It continued like that for a while, Stentor arguing with Alexios about what tactics were best for breaking down the opposition’s regime. Alexios was clearly just playing him like a fiddle.

She noticed, after a moment, that Brasidas had grown quiet at her side. She looked to him to find his golden eyes looking back. She touched a hand to his. “Is everything alright, my love?”

He gave her a smile she thought was supposed to be reassuring but it didn’t reach the creases at the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” he said. He thought for a moment, then abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, speaking to the whole room. “If it is agreeable, I would like to borrow Kassandra for a moment of fresh air?” he said.

There were murmurs of agreement as Kassandra pushed back her chair. She threw a questioning look to Brasidas, a pit of concern growing in her stomach. She hadn’t seen him so tense in months.

“Just bring her back with her honour intact,” Alexios teased.

Kassandra sent a glower at her brother, but it was all in good humour. “And what honour is that, brother?” she sniped back, swiftly following Brasidas from the room before Nikolaos could flush a deeper shade of red.

The cooling air of the night was welcome on her skin. The moon was shining valiantly tonight, casting Sparta in an ethereal glow. Brasidas twined his fingers through hers and gently pulled her towards the ledge the family home was set back from. He sat down, letting his legs hang over the edge and Kassandra followed suit. She sat close to him, hip to knee to toe and their entwined hands resting on her thigh. “What is worrying you, Brasidas?” she asked him gently, reaching up to smooth the furrow between his brows. She looked at his handsome face for a moment, bathed in ghostly white light. The crow’s feet framing the gentlest eyes she had ever seen. The flecks of grey in his hair and beard. All perfect, all beautiful. “Words do not explain how I miss you when I am gone,” she said, her voice muffled by the cloaking darkness of the night.

Brasidas looked to her and smiled, his free hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. His callused, rough fingers grazed her cheekbone and they just rested there for a moment. “I am well, Kassandra. Just… let us enjoy this for a moment.” He then leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to her forehead. They stayed like that for a moment, resting against each other, just enjoying the quiet and the drifting conversation from behind them. Just enjoying each other.

“I have been thinking, Kassandra… I was thinking, whilst you were away…” there was a strain in his voice that made her look up. He seemed to be struggling with his words. “You have to understand, I have never been in the habit of thinking about my future. It has always been survival… I was never arrogant to think I would make it this far.”

That, she understood. “I know, neither did I,” she said. “I never thought much further than the next day.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Well, I never thought I might have a future. I never allowed myself to think about it – dying on the battlefield for Sparta would always be enough, I told myself. So, when I realised that in the coming months, I will be reaching an age by which most Spartans are…” his voice trailed off again, seeming unusually frail.

She sensed, however, this was something important for him to say in his own time. “Yes?” she said, fingers gentle on his upper arm.

“I had never dreamed of marriage, Kassandra,” he said, all at once. And all at once, Kassandra felt a swooping inside of her as she realised what this could be leading to. “I had never met anyone that I could give my heart to, with no fear or reservation. And then I met you… in a burning warehouse in Korinthia,” they both laughed at the absurdity of it. “I realised why nothing else had ever felt right, why no one else had ever _clicked._

“The gods made me for you, Kassandra. And I think they might have made you for me.”

The breath that escaped her was shaky. “I think they did too, Brasidas.”

Looking emboldened, Brasidas squeezed her hand. “I have asked for your father’s approval, because I know that is what is done,” he said. “But I also asked for your mother’s approval, because I know no one else’s word would mean more to you.”

Her heart was thudding in her chest now. It would have been painful if her entire body did not feel as light as a feather. “Brasidas?”

His voice was shaking as much as Kassandra’s hands. “Would you do me the greatest honour, Kassandra? Would you be my wife?”

It felt like a wave crashing over her, water warm and pulling her this way and that and she could not have cared less. She would go wherever this wave carried her, as long as he was there. “Yes,” she murmured. The kiss she pressed to his lips was bruising. “Yes, I will.”

 

* * *

 

Without conscious thought, Kassandra’s hand fluttered to where she knew the pendant rested under her breastplate. Brasidas had given it to her on their wedding night, when they had laid together on top of the bedsheets, blissfully entangled. _It is an amulet of Vesta,_ he’d said, _to bring you home to me, wherever you may be._ She hadn’t taken it off in ten years. Her brother called her superstitious, but thus far it had worked, so why question the fates?

“Just _go,_ Kassandra,” Barnabas told her, not for the first time. They had docked in Gytheion and were making finals checks and stock counts. “I can finish up here.”

She looked at him with inquiring eyes. “Are you sure?” she said.

“ _Yes,_ all I ask is you say hello from Uncle Barnabas,” he said.

She smiled and shouldered her bag. “Fine,” she said, “but you must visit us soon!”

“I would not miss it for the world,” he said. And with that, Kassandra nodded and strode down the gangplank.

The walk home was so deeply ingrained in her mind at this point that she followed it as if swept along by a current. Ikaros swooped on ahead, content that Kassandra could make her own way and eager to take up his roost once again. In his old age, long sea journeys made her friend tired. Not that Kassandra was any different.

The familiar homestead was before her in no time, as if plucked straight out of her dreams. She smiled, then noted the lack of smoke rising from the chimney – her husband must be caught up, either at the _agoge_ or at her mother’s. Whichever it was, she took the opportunity to dump her gear and slump down onto the cushioned seat before the hearth. The familiar scent of home, of the crashing waves and the earthen forest, was like a warm blanket around her shoulders. She could see soft leather armour piled in one corner, unwashed bowls on a table. They’d have to speak about that, she thought sleepily as she burrowed further down into the seat. _A bad example…_

Kassandra was abruptly awoken just as an orange wash painted the sky. There was a shriek high enough to pierce her eardrum and a small, fleshy _thing_ barrelling straight into her chest, a strong _oof_ being knocked out of her. “ _Mater! Mater!”_

Slightly groggy, Kassandra wrapped both arms around her assailant and pulled the tiny girl up onto her chest. “Bandit!” she called, “I have caught you now!”

Little fists flew at her chest and she almost wished she had slept in her breastplate, her daughter got stronger every day. “No, no!” she squealed in delight. “ _Pater!_ Save me!”

“If you had put more consideration into _strategy,_ Myrra, you would not need saving.” Even in that weary teacher’s tone of his, Brasidas’s voice still had the power to make her heart leap. He was standing in the doorway, a bundle of blankets slumping against his chest, and he smiled at her. “Hello, Kassandra.”

Tucking a squirming child under one arm, Kassandra pushed herself up off the seat and crossed the room to press a gentle kiss to her husband’s lips. She smoothed down the silvering hair on his temple. “Hello, my love,” she said. Myrra was making vomiting noises from where she was hanging from Kassandra’s side like a sack of rocks. Little brat had learned that from Uncle Alexios, no doubt. Kassandra set her down – right side up, just to be nice – and crouched down to press a big, sloppy kiss to her forehead.

“ _Eurgh,”_ the girl whined in protest, wiping at her forehead. “ _Mater!”_

“ _Myrra,”_ Kassandra mock whined back at her. “Have you behaved for your _pater?”_

The child almost seemed affronted that Kassandra had to ask. “Of course!” she said. Sometimes she reminded Kassandra of Markos, in the best and worst ways possible.

Kassandra looked to Brasidas for corroboration, who merely smiled. “Ah, she was good. We had our wobbles but Uncle Alexios said she was good as gold in her lessons.”

 _Uncle Alexios spoils her rotten,_ Kassandra thought and tugged her daughter’s tunic straight. It was muddy at the knees, but she wasn’t surprised and frankly past chastising. “Well done, Myrra,” she said, ruffling the girl’s bird’s nest of a head. “I missed you very much when I was away, you know? Every night before I went to sleep, I wanted to give you a hug and a kiss.”

The girl’s face turned more serious at that. “I know! I gave hugs and kisses to _pater_ and Leon every night for you. Like you asked!” As dutiful as her _pater._

“What a good girl you are,” Kassandra said, pulling her in for another hug. “I am very proud of you.”

Kassandra got in another squeeze before her daughter was wriggling away to grab parchment from the small bag she’d dropped at the door. “ _Mater,_ look at my letters! I’ve been practicing!”

Kassandra smiled. “In a moment, lamb. I need to say hello to Leon first,” she said.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she stepped closer to Brasidas. His soft smile and the breeze of his breath on her collarbone felt like the warm embrace of home. Gently, she pulled back the top layer of blankets he had cradled against his chest. She pressed a kiss to the head of the dozing infant hiding there. “How has he been?” she asked.

“He has been well. He still needs to hold onto things to balance on his feet, but his gurgling is getting closer to words.”

Kassandra grinned. “We’ll make a playwright of him yet.”

Brasidas chuckled. “Nikolaos would faint.”

She laughed but quickly quietened as the bundle of blankets shifted. She reached out and Brasidas understood in an instant, passing over the bundle as gently as he could. Leon shifted, gurgled but then, recognising the smell, curled into his mother’s breast and dozed off back to sleep. A restlessness in Kassandra’s heart that she hadn’t even known was there disappeared as a tiny hand crept up to hold onto her braid.

 

* * *

 

_Five years go_

When the second moon passed with the cotton pads in the drawer going untouched, realisation washed over Kassandra like a red dawn. Her heart had dropped like a stone, her stomach roiling as though Poseidon was struck with a temper. It wasn’t the reaction she was expecting – hadn’t she wanted this? Hadn’t they both wanted this, whispering under their bedsheets at night about a child with honeyed eyes and a lilting smile? She’d dreamt of this moment, of finding out about a little girl or boy who would be them and theirs. So, what was wrong?

Her cheeks were damp when Brasidas came home that evening. She was curled protectively around her stomach like a wounded lioness, trying to hide the wetness of her face in the cushions. Although it was foolish to think she could fool Brasidas. He quickly swooped to her side, hands landing on her arms and flying back just as quickly when she flinched away. “Kassandra, my love-“

The whimper she let out was involuntary. He sat next to her, awkwardly hovering, desperate not to move away but not daring to get closer. “Please,” he sounded desperate. “Tell me.”

“Brasidas,” she said, as if his name alone could ground her. She was cut and badly bleeding from a jagged edge she didn’t even know she had. “I am-“ she tried, but the words failed her. “We are-“

The hand that unconsciously moved to her stomach was indication enough though. A flurry of emotions swept over Brasidas’s face like a summer storm. Shock and joy swept away by confusion and despair. “Is it- is the child okay?”

Another shiver wracked her body. She wasn’t sure why. “Yes, I- I think so,” she managed to choke out.

“Kassandra, this is incredible news,” he sounded insistent, like he was trying to convince her. Slowly, he reached out to place his hand over hers and hold the not-quite swell of her stomach. “It is good news, is it not?”

She looked at him with wet eyes and saw the deep concern there, shored by the love so strong between them. She had to believe in him, she told herself. “It is,” she said, smiling weekly. “It is- I just-“

He was patient, letting her think as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She had to believe in him. Strong and courageous and honest and true and deeply loving Brasidas. The man she would fight a thousand wars for. She had to believe in him. “Brasidas, you have to-“ she drew herself up straighter, stronger, drawing in a ragged breath. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her other hand. “Brasidas, you have to promise me.” She sounded jagged.

His brow furrowed, concern and confusion deepening. “Anything, Kassandra. You know that.”

“No, more than that,” she insisted. She was finding her strength now. “You have to swear – on your life, on mine.”

“Anything.”

His thumb had stilled on the back of her hand now and their eyes were locked, as serious as the grave. “Brasidas, you have to protect this child with your life,” she said. “With your life, with mine – whatever it takes, we must protect them. From _anything,_ anyone who seeks to do them harm.”

Realisation was dawning on his face now. Thunder and lightning, Myrrine’s screams burned into her mind like a brand.

To this day, she could not see a babe without hearing Alexios shrieking, seeing his tiny fists flailing.

Brasidas nudged her hand aside to press the palm of his hand to her stomach. His face was grave, his fingers splayed out as if to shield the tiny seedling of a babe. “I swear to you – I swear on my life.” His other hand came up to hold the back of her neck and he pressed their foreheads together. “Kassandra, I swear.”

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, when she was at sea for months at a time and yearned to hold Leon and Myrra in her arms, just to know they were safe, she heard his words in her head. _Kassandra, I swear._

The gentle tug of Leon’s hand in her braid brought her back to the day he was born. She had birthed a boy and for the first time since she’d known about Myrra, her stomach had given a jolt. Alexios had noticed it too, when he held the boy later. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds over the dark tuft on Leon’s head and she knew they were thinking the same thing. _A daughter and a son, born in sequence to the line of Leonidas._ His jaw was set and there was a fire of determination in his eyes and in an instant, she knew. She knew it was not just herself and Brasidas willing to lay down their lives for their children.

It helped her sleep when sleep evaded her. But the truth was, most days she wasn’t sick with worry. It was always there – like a bad back or a trick knee – but it rarely came to the fore. For that, she was thankful.

Truth be told, she had much to be thankful for.

Brasidas met her eyes then, his hand still rubbing up and down Leon’s back. “You start thinking any louder-“ he murmured.

“One day, you might be able to overhear me,” she finished for him, smiling. It made him laugh, which was the desired effect. “You know me, I think too much.”

“I do know you,” he said. “Come now, put those thoughts to bed for now. Myrra will show you her letters – her _xi_ is getting good, I had not mastered that one until I was at least six-“ she giggled at him. “And then you can tell me about your trip and I can tell you about how I knocked your little brother on his ass in the training yard today-“

“ _Which_ brother?”

Brasidas made a face. “Stentor, of course – he was mouthing off about showing my students how a real Spartan fights.”

“And then you showed them how a real Spartan fights?”

The crease between his brows meant he was trying not to look too pleased with himself. “Of course, it was my duty to them as an instructor.”

She grinned at him, shaking her head. “So, I will apologise later?”

“I imagine so, yes, but for now we are victorious.”

“What a blessed feeling it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.…… it's only about a month late but /hear me out/ I have been in exam hell (and still am! Praying for Thursday 5pm to hurry up!!) I think the non linear, jumpy, all over the place format is a metaphor for my current state of mind. Again, I'm sorry about how long it took but I hope the length & content makes up for that? I really hope you enjoyed the chapter & the story as I've loved writing this and can see myself writing more of this pairing in the future. I also really enjoyed exploring Kassandra and Alexios' relationship post Kosmos and seeing how Brasidas fits into the family, so if you want more of that let me know? Also - I went for Myrra & Leon because I literally couldn't come up with an acceptable name from Brasidas' side of the family lol (like cmon his parents were named Tellis & Argileonis what am I supposed to do with that) so this is not a Harry-steamrolling-Ginny situation of baby name hogging, Brasidas' family just needs better names. (jk)
> 
> As per usual this was mainly written in the wee hours of the morning so I'll definitely be cleaning up on the grammar and any ridiculous run on sentences later on but I hope it doesn't detract too much! As always, let me know what you think & leave a kudos if I've earned it ;)
> 
> You can catch me on tumblr at @astolove <3
> 
> ((also I am an 18 year old physics student and I still have not mastered how to write xi so good job Myrra))


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